[IC] Theramore's Victory (Posts Welcome)

Moon Guard
"Fifty-two... Fifty-three!" Boristus exclaimed, as he finished counting the ears. Every time he had felled an enemy during the battle, he had made an effort to claim an ear from the corpse. At the time, he had simply tossed them into a sack at his waist, and gone back to fighting. Now, back at rest in Silvermoon, he had time to count them out, and make himself a necklace.

Ear-necklaces might seem to be an odd ornamentation for a Blood elf, but it was a hobby he had picked up so many years ago helping the Farstriders fight Trolls in the Ghostlands, and the Orcs tended to take him more seriously when he wore such macabre jewelry. He himself took pride in the necklaces; they were a tangible symbol of his battle-prowess, that he was more useful than a simple engineer.

The elf summoned a nail-sized sliver of ice, and began to punch holes in the ears. He thought back to the battle as he worked. It was a disappointment that they had failed to take the city the previous night, after the long months of fighting their way towards it. Still, it had been exhilarating! At one point, he had stood not twenty feet from the city gates, raising fire from the ground, and raining ice from the skies.

A throb of pain from his recovering shoulder reminded him that it had been more that an exciting game; when the Horde forces had finally broke, a Lordaeronian swordsman had gotten a lucky slash through his shields. He rubbed the shoulder, and began to string the ears onto the mithril wire.

He was glad he hadn't been one of the generals in charge, though. He imagined that Warchief Hellscream was not pleased with their final results.

On the other hand, word was spreading that the Horde forces stationed at the Dranosh'ar Blockade, who had been building up since before the Shattering, were preparing to move south. Some of the sailors from the Silvermoon War Harbor he had met at the bar the previous night had complained that they were to set sail for Durotar within twenty-four hours. It bespoke the beginnings of a grand campaign, and there was only one likely path they were going to take.

Boristus tied off the necklace, and held it before him. Fifty-three ears, Human, Dwarf, Gnome, Night Elf, Draenei, and Worgen all present. It was simply crafted, but durable. The Orcs would love it. He put it around his neck, and hummed as he got up. The previous night had not been a loss, oh no. The Theramore offensive was merely a setback. Soon, the armies of the Horde would descend upon it

And leave the city in ashes.
08/26/2012 09:49 AMPosted by Boristus
The Theramore offensive was merely a setback.
((Sorry that I'm chiming in yet again, But what you did there, I see it. I !@#$ing see it. 10/10 would lol again)))
((It totally felt appropriate there. The moment he put on the necklace, his thoughts were becoming darker. Besides, Blood Elf Magi tend to think alike.))
((It is assumed all of the Horde commanders, such as myself, Felthier, Tendael, Sibelius/Seleste And Kamiane would know of it, as we discussed if we would for some time.))
((skullcrusha not even baine or vol jin knew of this only garrosh the blood elf thalen and the goblins who made the bomb knew of it))
08/26/2012 12:34 PMPosted by Cladriah
((skullcrusha not even baine or vol jin knew of this only garrosh the blood elf thalen and the goblins who made the bomb knew of it))

Take it in-game. No need to make this thread blow up.))
The news of the victory reached Adira in her office beneath the Lamb.

"By the Light," she sighed.

She slumped back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, but she wasn't seeing ceiling.

"The battle is won, but the war goes on," she reminded herself.
Alorinis stood at the top of a tall tree in the marsh, flaming crown dancing in the light of the hour, his bow casually hung at his side as he gazed down. His eyes sweeping over the field of bodies, looking to the fighting beyond. As he roves the corpses, he spots the hulking Orc in deathly armor, smirking. He watches the exchange with the poor Human, shaking his head as he sees his neck snapped and tossed aside. "Such is the pain of war."

As he looks ahead to the tower of Theramore, the final target yet unharmed but ever the coming goal, his wife Eleneill arrives next to him on the tree top. "Skull combing the field again?"

"Aye, he is." He nods to her, before placing a simple kiss on her blood stained cheek. "He ended the short life of a Human not a few moments before you got here." She chuckled, joining his view to look at the tower of Theramore.

"How long do you think till we get inside?" She said looking at him with a quirked brow. His shoulders merely raised and lowered in a quick response. "I 'spose this war will continue until then, right?"

"No. Theramore is only a stop, a simple side route in the war. Their power is notable, but they are nothing compared to our targets to come. This war does not end, not until we have killed everyone who would stand before us. Whether they stand before us out of true hatred, for love of their country, or just because they were ordered to fight by someone else. They must all die, if we are ever to find our peace." He spoke grimly, a small grin still on his lips as he watched Skullcrusha move across the field more. "Until every, single one of them is dead."

She nodded in response to him, glancing to the side and nudging him. "A war to continue, till the extermination of any who would stand before us. Guess we'll always be busy." As he looked over he saw two Alliance soldiers, a Dwarf and a Human, slowly moving towards Skullcrusha.

"I suppose we will, but we always knew that, didn't we? We pledged ourselves to this war, and to the Horde. And we will fight, until we are told not to." He spoke as he notched an arrow into his bow and took aim. The Dwarf came behind Skullcrusha first, barely two yards away as he leveled a throwing axe. As the arm came to it epitome of height, the arrow flew right through his head. The Dwarf's arm dropped to the side, throwing axe buring itself into the ground. Before the Human could snap a remark out of its mouth, a large, blue wolf rammed into the Human. Fur dancing with electricty, and a roar that sounded of thunder danced around as the wolf's mouth closed around the Human's throat and toar it out. Both soldiers felled quickly, adding only to the piles of corpses as the wolf walked off.

"Two less to kill, even though they never sought to harm us." She said, looking up to Alorinis.
"They sought to harm those we call allies, and that is enough." He nodded to her, as he wrapped his arm around her, and went back to watching the fighting in the distance.

"May we never know what we sow here..."

((On an unrelated matter. Skullcrusha never made a remark about a bomb, he just said a fate far worse. That can be anything, don't assume he is being a bad because we've read the books and see where it goes. ICly, he hasn't done anything off.))
(bump, needs more IC posts.)
Andrithan stood on the crest of the hill, overlooking the bridge spanning the Dustwallow Bay. Below, soldiers of both factions combed the fields of the fallen, seeking out survivors to save, or to kill. It was a sight the Blood Knight had seen many times before, across continents and worlds.

The sound of clanking armor alerted him to the fact that someone was approaching. He turned to see a Blood Elf bedecked in the white and gold armor of a Thalassian Swordsman. "Lithoriel." Andirthan greeted him. The figure took off his helmet, freeing his short auburn hair. The new arrival turned to face the Blood Knight.

"I thought I'd find you here, Andrithan." He said casually, as he patted his friend's shoulder. His companion grunted an acknowledgment, and turned back to the face the bay. The swordman joined him, with a look of distain on his face as he observed the scene.

"What an ugly view." He commented. "Reminds me of the Black Temple."

Andrithan nodded. "I was thinking the same thing." He sighed. "It really isn't much different than the first attempt on the Black Temple."

"Same results, too." Lithoriel added.

The Blood Knight scowled. "Yes, I remember. I'm just glad it was the spellbreakers that Lord Kael'thas sent on that initial suicide charge."

His friend looked at the ground. "When we defected from the Sunfury, I though we were through with this kind of thing." He indicated at the carrion waves. "It was obvious from the onset that we were going to loose this engagement, yet we proceeded anyways. What a waste."

"Hellscream's men are eager to please." Andrithan commented. "They no longer care to know the chances, just the rewards of success." He shook his head. "Just like many of us were, back then."

Lithoriel growled. "History is repeating itself, isn't it? The Orcs are reverting to their bloodthirsty violence, eager to conquer rather than lay down roots. What next, are we going to come under the heel of an insane, power-hungry demon worshipper? " He kicked a stone into the bay. "What are we supposed to do, Andrithan, stand here and let this happen again?"

With a sigh, the Blood Knight answered. "We are to do as we always have. We will follow our orders as long as we have to, and wait to see what our options are. The Horde is more than just Orcs, now, and many of the others are growing discontent with Hellscream."

"His time will come, soon enough. Just as Kael'Thas's did. We just need to survive until it does."

((Andrithan and Lithoriel are both ex-Sunfury, who bailed when Kael's army came to Quel'Danas. The incident they are referring to with the Black Temple was the opening cutscene to the Black Temple level in WC3:TFT, where Kael sends waves of Spellbreakers to be killed by the felcannons to please Illidan.

Lithoriel is a Swordsman, the unit that replaced human footmen in WC3 levels were only Elves were present, such as most of the TFT Alliance campaign. My designs have them wearing white and gold armor.))
The Priestess walked among the streets of Theramore. While the loss of life was regretable, the city was safe. The previous day was spent on the skirmish in the swamps. She had never seen anything like it since the battle at Hyjal. She was a novice then.

Cynysia Moonstriker was amazed that she even survived this. Gorvhat was dangerous, but this was the Horde. Her perenniel enemy. She was not above being there to heal people and perhaps get a glaive in there, but this was something new.

While she stood and aided where she could after victory was assured, she had time to think.

Garrosh must fall, if only to restore the peace we once had, though tenuous at best.

The Kaldorei would not give up so easily.

They look like elves, but taller and far more savage, an orc said back then in reference to the Kaldorei.

How true...How true indeed. And Cynysia was among the more savage if pushed. Lately, she wasn't, but this started to nag her. She could feel herself considering one thing.

Perhaps the time of negotiation was over. It was time for action, time for retaliation.

"Elune forgive me, but I see no other way around this. If they want a war, they shall have one."

She knew...They were not done yet. The Horde would return to Theramore.
The blood pooled against the bridge as Kinria stood afar from the battle. The bodies of Horde and Alliance piling against the grounds of the once peaceful city of Theramore. Staring through her violet goggles, she watch the wounded and fallen lie on the ground. The battle seeming to last longer than anyone could imagine.

"Is this really what our war will result to? the bodies of Alliance and Horde grouping outside the only bastion peace.." Kinria thought, turning her back to the blood boiling screams and growls coming outside the gates. Time went by each moment knowing one false move could cost this city's entire population...

Walking to the armory, the gnomish cleric walked into the medical room. Were there ever a time these beds had to aid so many injured? Did Theramore have to be stained with so much blood after the fall of Jaina's father? These questions rang though Kinria's mind upon lying her hands upon a dwarven soldier. So much confliction battled within Kinria's mind as her dreamd and goals were facing the realization of the war. So much was in stake, it was almost blinding the gnome.

"Do ya'.. hear that?" the dwarf uttered in pain as he turned his head to the priest. "The fighting stopped..." Kinria turned her head to the door.. Silence... deathly silence before cheers of the Alliance ushered forth. A smile grew on her face. We have succeeded in the defence of Theramore.. there is still a chance for peace. the dwarf coughed a bit and forced himself to a sit. "Gotta'.. join the others.. for a drink!" He'd happily cried in a wince. Kinria placed her hands on his legs. "Calm yourself, there will be time to cheer soon, but not now. you need to feel better."

An hour after the final conclusion of the skirmish. Kinria patted her hands off. Her gloves soaked in blood of the newly mended. Before her stood the groups and guilds that aided in the battle. All cheering and chatting after their success, but there were multiple people carrying their wounded. Perhaps a day or two was needed to help all those who were injured, if all the clerics and healers joined together.

"There... might be a chance for peace.. is this finally the end?" Kinria murmured, looking to the skies.. "Or is there more to follow?"
Aldreon's claws were already caked with Orc blood several times over, yet the enemy seemed relentless in their offense. Wave after wave the forces of the vile Horde crashed against the defenses of Theramore like tides of the Great Sea, yet time and time again the defenders of the Grand Alliance repelled their attackers. 
The war had taken a heavy toll on the port-bound city. The westernmost bridge of Theramore laid in rubble and its' surface remained littered with corpses. With victory in their grasp, the armor-clad Alliance soldiers advanced through the bodies strewn about the bridge as Aldreon leaped forth gracefully on the backs of the dead. 
"Retreat! Retreat!" the Orc Warlord began to yell and the remaining Horde forces turned and ran towards the swamp. Aldreon moved swiftly through the battlefield and managed to pounce on the back of an escaping Troll and sink his fangs deep into it's neck. The druid pulled out a chunk of the Troll's flesh and his victim attempted to scream, but instead created a series of gurgling sounds as its' throat began to fill with blood.
As the Horde forces began retreating into the swamp, the bloodied feline reverted back into his Elf form before spewing out a hunk of troll flesh from his mouth. Aldreon grinned with amusement as the Horde scurried into the swamp fleeing for their lives, the warm taste of blood and iron never before felt so sweet. The sounds of men and women cheering with their metal swords clanging against shields began to build up behind him.
Aldreon was so exhausted he could barely afford to stand. He took a moment to collect himself before noticing a triangular blue and white Alliance flag flapping in the wind. Aldreon grabbed the flagpole and marched over to the throatless troll and thrusted the base of the flag through the Troll's corpse. Raising his arms in the air he let out a savage roar before rolling onto his side in exhaustion.
The battle for Theramore was over, but the war had only begun. Aldreon knew that the the Horde were likely to return, for they were too prideful in defeat to have given up so easily. They would return in greater numbers and with greater force than ever before.
Theramore may one day fall, but it would not be this day.
(Great event kerd. I'd make an IC post if it wasn't so late and i wasn't getting ready for a big day.)
I really wanted to challenge my self so it might be a bit long. So go easy on me I really worked hard on this.;_;))

In the murky swamps of Dustwallow Marsh, a group of fatigued Alliance soldiers travel there way through the body littered swamps back to Theramore, the Alliance town they fought so valiantly to defend. They were lead by a female night elf wearing damaged light armor, who stayed alert for any up coming dangers as the faint sounds of steel clashing could be heard from all around.

Further in, corpses of the Horde and Alliance festering the muddy swamps became more unavoidable to miss as some couldn't help but step on a few blood socked corpses. A dwarf, in light armor, holding his rifle at the ready looked in horror at his comrade’s mutilated bodies.

“Look at this; it looks like this lot suffered the worst of it. Blasted Horde will pay for this.” He clinched his teeth in anger hoping his allies did not suffer slow deaths.

The night elf continued on walking, not letting the carnage distract her. “They will all soon answer for every lost life here, until then we must fight on and not let there deaths be in vain.”

“I’m sure they will, lass. I just hope too many don’t have to die for us to accomplish that."

The ever alert night elf notices a dead armor-clad female blood elf, which looked pined to a tree by a sword through her chest. She continued onward as she walked pass the dead elf. Suddenly, the night elf felt the cold steel of a clawed gauntlet stabbing into the flesh of her throat, and pulled her face within inches of the dead elf. The night elf’s eyes were met by the icy glare of the dead elf revealing she was alive. She tries to go for her dagger, but the undead elf rips out her throat with her steel claws. The helpless night elf falls to the ground as her blood pours from her neck.

“Noooo.” roars the dwarf as he points his gun at the risen death knight. But a massive, spiked haired orc from behind pops up from the mud and takes one devastating swing with his axe and sends the dwarf slamming him into a tree in a bloody mess. “Attack!” The orc roared vigorously.

Forsaken corpses once thought dead began to rise up from all directions. From the muddy waters to directly underneath, the forsaken forces slash and stabbed there victims in every direction. Pulling the broken sword she planted in her armored chest plate, the death knight watches proudly as the last reaming Alliance soldiers were slaughtered.

“Saria, this isn't exactly my ideal way to fight. All this sneaking around and playing dead in the mud is no fun at all.” Said eye-patched orc as he walked over to his death knight, companion sitting on a rock as she licked the blood from her claws.

Saria couldn't help but smirk at her orc friend. “Konoch, sometimes it best to out smart the enemy and take them by surprise, then to charge head on.”

The orc laughs, “Where’s the fun in that? There is nothing more fun then a battle when its a fight to the death.” explains the orc as he throws his gigantic axe over his shoulder. The death knight couldn’t help but sigh at the battle hungry orc.

Just then, Saria notices a badly injured female sin’dorei, with damaged mail armor staggering towards them. “Saria, thank goodness I was able to find you out here.” the injured blood elf fell to her knees, reveled she finally found allies this far out.

“Maraala, are you ok?” The concerned death knight rushes over to her. Just then Saria’s eyes flung open in shock.

“Maraala, you were assigned to attack Theramore from the behind along with my brother. What happened to him? Where is he? Saria’s voice began to rise in anger, hoping to not hear the worst.

Maraala lowers her head in shame. “The attack was a failure. We had to fight our way through the town just make our escape. We made it out the north gate, but your brother along with the others stayed behind to hold off the Alliance so the injured can make there escape.” The blood elf continued to hang her head down, not wanting to look Saria in the eye.

“Everyone, were going on a rescue mission!” Saria shouted. “I’ll need one of you to escort Marraala back to base, the rest of you were moving out. Your coming too Konoch.” Saria dashes off in full speed with her reminding platoon to Theramore while leaving one behind to help Malaara back.

“Ha, like you really needed to tell me.” The orc couldn’t help hold his excitement for the fun that was soon to come.

“Brother I swear, if you’re dead I will kill them all! I will not stop until every last one is dead. Ill turn Theramore and all the Alliance cities into a chemical wasteland if I have to! The Alliance will soon know my wrath!”
Carandol surveyed the blood soaked marsh with a sinking heart and a rapidly tearing soul. It has come to this? An attack on a city whose leader long stood for peace…? He stared bleakly at his left arm which had so recently been broken and mended by one of the most unlikely of people. He closed his fel orbs and recalled the incident, it all seemed so hazy to him, it may not even have been real.

He remembered entering the tower, bow in hand, attempting to stave off the Alliance that poured in to protect Lady Proudmoore. All had gone black rather quickly and he awoke to a familiar gold plated face. Words were spoken that he could not for the life of him remember. The feeling of passing the high stone gates instead of being placed in a cold dark dungeon and a command to hold out his broken arm however remained clear in the Rangers memory. Pain stirred him to focus; the voice was raspy and oddly familiar. It struck him suddenly he had actually been talking to Naevius Bellorum the entire time.

Carandol felt a small smile tug upon his cracked and dry lips, he opened his eyes again. With grim determination he turned toward the path leading to the Barrens and out of the desolate marshes. Eventually he quit using the path and used his skills to duck around Horde sentries looking for deserters. He stopped seeing them as allies, finally, he saw what the Alliance saw. They were monsters in their prime and in their element, the kind he could no longer serve and still call himself a man of honor. It was time to leave. For good.

(Also yes very good event! I went on both sides. Alliance first day and Horde on the second.)
((Bump. I am pleased by all the carnage. =))))

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